


Not a Creature was Stirring

by skund



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Zombies, wfge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce noted with some absurdity, that this was the third most normal Christmas he'd had since taking up the cowl. For the World's Finest Gift Exchange prompt F32: <em>Superman and Batman require the assistance of the pets of the superhero community (Krypto, Streaky, Charlie, Ace, etc. You decide the makeup of the League of Super Pets).</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Creature was Stirring

  
The December sky hung heavy and low over Gotham, snow-laden clouds bringing darkness and a bone-aching chill. Bruce hardly noticed; it was always dim and cold in the Cave. His dark form sat hunched over before the bank of monitors, as it had done for several hours now. Under their pale light his uncowled face looked tired and drawn. He hated this time of year. 

It wasn't just the endless parade of Christmas parties with inane banter and forced goodwill that Bruce Wayne was required to attend, but the surge in petty crime the Batman had to deal with. Desperation was rife this time of year. The cold bore down and the bills piled up, but little faces don't understand when they look at the empty space under the Christmas tree, if there's one at all. So otherwise good men fall into bad ways, and the Bat is there. He pitied them, but that wouldn't stay his hand. A few bruises and six months with good prospects for parole was better than falling into the darkness of drugs and gangs and crime lords for the sake of a leg of ham and a new TV. Better than being found bloodless and stiff in an alley, or one of those messes that get pulled from the river every so often. 

There was so much work to be done. So he danced and charmed and sipped fake champagne every evening, then came back and patrolled til dawn. And if the looked the worse for wear, people only blamed it on the season. And they'd be right. Bruce sighed, and pulled on his cowl. It was Christmas Eve, at last. One more day and all this madness would be over. He'd grudgingly promised Alfred he'd take a week long holiday, starting tomorrow, if only to allay the butler's increasingly worried looks. But that was tomorrow. Tonight he had work to do. He checked the thermal heating in his suit one last time, then climbed into the Batmobile and slipped out into the night. 

\--- 

He'd countered three muggings, two drug deals and an unprovoked assault on a pair of carollers before he'd heard urgent chatter over the police radio band. A small laboratory on the outskirts of town had gone up in flames. Authorities were slow to respond, and there were no details on casualties or the cause of the blaze. Batman swept back to the car and headed towards the city's limits. 

He was almost halfway there when a familiar voice reached him through his earpiece. “Hey.” 

Bruce smiled softly and replied in kind “Hey.” 

“Do you need a hand?” 

Bruce snorted “I can handle this.” 

“I know you can.” Clark sighed “but do you want a hand?” 

“I've got it, thanks.” 

“Well, all's quiet in Metropolis so if you need me...” 

Bruce pulled an exasperated face. 

“Don't roll your eyes at me, B. Fine, look after yourself and I'll see you later.” 

“Later.” The connection goes dead, but a small smile remains on Bruce's face. 

\--- 

The building is burnt almost down to the foundations by the time he arrives. There are a handful of fire trucks and other emergency vehicles clustered around it, but depressingly few ambulances. Not many survivors. Batman discreetly parks the Batmobile in an alley and approaches on foot. The firefighters are already packing up, too exhausted to do more than secure the site and move on to the next disaster. Batman gives them a wide berth, starting his investigation from the rear of the building. He goes slowly, concerned his fatigued mind will miss something vital. But even the ash and scorch marks can't hide the nature of this place – long rows of lab benches, covered in melted, twisted equipment. Lumps of broken glass on the floor. A stainless steel autopsy tray still gleams dully in the moonlight. Batman pauses at the latter, moving closer to investigate. Dark fluids stain the channel within the tray, with smudges on the sides. And bloody handprints on the tray's raised rim. Human handprints, fingers pointing outwards. Someone had to be lying on the tray to make such marks. The list of accidental fire causes in Batman's mind slowly fade away. Something most certainly was not right here. Was fire used to cover up whatever research was conducted here? Or did someone resort to arson to stop these experiments? 

He catalogued the rest of the room, the large holding cages and human-sized restraints confirming his fears. He's passed through the length of the building and exited to an alleyway on the far side before he encounters recognisable human remains. It's lying face down in a snowbank, the charred remains of clothes clinging to the shrivelled form. Batman approaches slowly. It's a mess, the stink of burnt flesh almost choking. His heavily gloved hand clasps the shoulder, turning the still form over. Exposed eyes stare dully beyond him from a twisted and broken head. For just for a second a flash of Harvey's face comes to him. No, not Harvey. TwoFace. Batman sighs, mentally blocking the image. It doesn't matter what role this poor soul played in this horrific scene, he was a victim now. 

Just as he reaches for the top pocket to check for the victim's ID those pale, bloodshot eyes swivel towards him, and the figure moans. Batman feels his heart jolt. His other hand is flying to his earpiece in a second, ready to call an ambulance. The body moans again, broken and low, but the eyes never seem to focus. It leans forward, opening an empty, disfigured mouth and bites Batman's hand. Its teeth slip uselessly off the reinforced leather. 

“Stop.” Batman gasps and removes his arm, feeling his exhausted mind tumble uselessly. What on Earth? 

The figure lurches and bites him again, higher on his forearm. Batman can feel its teeth grind and splinter against his kevlar. He swings his arm sharply, sending the body flinging back to the ground, and leaps away. The thing lands wetly against the snow, moaning louder. Two more voices down the alley answer it. One of the shadows starts to crawl towards him, raw, bony fingers dragging its body over the icy ground, useless stumps of legs dragging behind it. Batman freezes. These aren't... alive. Aren't real. They can't be. But the figures are moving closer, and the one nearest to him is painstakingly climbing to its feet, large intestines spilling out of the cavity above its hips. This isn't... He needs to get a handle on this situation before he can retaliate. He needs a plan. In seconds, his grapple gun is in his hands and he's sailing skywards. 

Once safely sequestered on the rooftop next door, his hand goes to his earpiece again. 

“Robin?” 

“Hey, B. What's up?” 

“Nightwing?” 

“Yup, thought I'd swing by for a bit.” 

“Why?” 

“Er, because it's Christmas, Ebenezer?” 

Batman didn't reply. 

“Hey, did you see that charity Santa drop those two punks on the corner of 7th and Sussex?” 

“No. I...” He trailed off. 

“I'll never look at a bell the same way again.” 

Batman was silent. 

“Have you wrapped up that lab fire?” 

“No. There are some usual... occurrences.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It appeared to be a human research lab, illegal no doubt. There were no survivors within the building, but I discovered some... remains just outside the premises.” 

“Damn, not a great way to go.” Nightwing replied softly. 

“I went to investigate one of the bodies.” Batman paused. He could hear Dick frowning over the comm link. “It bit me.” He finished quickly. 

Silence. Well, not quite. A quick glance down to ground level revealed shapes clawing at the wall directly below where he perched. 

“Bit you?” 

“It didn't penetrate the armour-” 

“But it bit you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What, like a zombie?” 

Batman huffed. “There's no such thing.” 

“Dead and bitey equals zombie in my books.” 

Batman shook his head. Zombies were the staples of shallow horror flicks and ostentatious video clips. 

“... That is so cool. I can be there in 20 mins.” 

“No.” Batman answered sharply. “We need more intel on this... lab. What they were experimenting with. I'll detain these... them, and meet you back at the cave.” 

“You're the boss, boss.” came the resigned reply. 

“Don't call me that.” Batman snapped off the connection, studying the alley below. A total of three shapes were huddled below him, trying vainly to scale the cement wall. There was little else in the alley, save soot-stained snow, a dumpster and... a hatch door. 

Batman swept down off the roof, landing close to the hatch. It was rusted with age and neglect, and he struggled with it. It finally opened to reveal a set of stairs, leading to a small cellar. By the time he'd gotten both doors open the... creatures (something about being pursued by 'bodies' made his brain itch) had closed half the distance to him. They moved slowly with halting steps, the one reduced to dragging itself trailing behind. Batman leapt easily over the entrance of the hatchway, placing it between himself and the approaching group. The sunken faced pair eventually approached him and began to moan. Batman tensed, alert and ready to respond to whatever steps they took to get around the hatch opening. But they made no such effort. Both forms stepped forward into the gaping hole without flinching, arms reaching forwards to grasp at him uselessly as they tumbled down the stairs and landed with a wet crunch. He stood, perplexed, staring into the hole. Low moans drifted up to him. He glanced up, catching sight of the dragging creature. It was still less than halfway to him. 

He stood for a dozen heartbeats, watching it approach. Milky eyes, stared back at him. He waited half a dozen heartbeats more before leaping back over the hatch and sprinting towards the prone form. He picked up it by the fabric over its back, assaulted by the sweet stench of charred flesh and sudden moaning. He swiftly moved back to the hatch, the thing writing in his hands as he held it away from him, and extended his arms out over the hole. The thing was lightweight and Bruce held it with very little strain, despite its flailing. He then reconsidered, and placed the form at his feet, quickly binding its hands together behind its back with zip strips. The he shut the doors of the hatch and zip stripped them tightly closed, shouldering the dumpster over the top half of the doors to be certain. He detached his cape, bundled the bound form into it, duly dodging it's lunging bites, slung it over his shoulder and made his way back to the Batmobile. 

\--- 

Bruce returned to the cave to find Robin chatting animatedly over the computer screen with Kon, Nightwing leaning over the back of his chair. Both glanced over at him as he stepped out of the Batmobile, white lenses not hiding their buzzing energy. 

“Hey B.” Dick called with a grin, Tim greeting him with a silent nod. 

“Oh man,” came Kon's voice over the video link, “I can't believe you guys got zombies over there.” 

Batman threw a glare at the screen. 

“Uh, how about I call you back, Kon?” Tim whispered quickly. 

“Dude, is he still pissed at me?” Kon stage whispered in return. 

“Well, you did steal the Batmo-” 

“I only borrowed it for a bit.” 

“-And drove it into the harbour.” 

“It was on fire! What was I 'sposed to-” 

Another glare from the Bat cut their conversation short. Tim muttered “I'll call you later” and ended the link. 

Batman popped the trunk of the Batmobile. Dick sidled over, curious. “Whatcha got in there?” 

Batman pulled the writing, cape-bound form out with one hand. It let out a whining growl. 

“Woah” Dick leapt back. “You caught one of 'em?” 

With a tired nod, Bruce strode over to his own laboratory setup and placed the bundle on the examination table. Dick and Tim shadowed him, swapping glances with each other. 

“How many were there?” Tim asked, edging closer as Batman tore his cape away from the form. Judging from the fluids leaking through it he wouldn't be using this particular cape again. 

“Three, I detained the other two for retrieval later.” He filled them in on the rest of his actions, and his conclusions so far. 

Dick grinned and shook his head. “I still can believe it, zombies!” 

Bruce threw him a look. “This is clearly some sort of... induced mutation. Or illness. Medical experimentation. Not some horror movie plot device - those are not real.” 

“What's no real?” a voice suddenly spoke from above. All three men glanced up to see Superman descending from a hole in the cave's ceiling, red cape billowing about him in the darkness. He touched down close to where they stood and starting moving towards Bruce but quickly faltered. 

“What in God's name is that?” 

“That is, apparently, a not-zombie.” Dick replied. 

Clark studied Dick's face, then Tim's and finally Bruce's in turn. None of them gave anything away. 

“I found it” Bruce informed, “outside that lab fire on the outskirts of town. There were two others.” 

Clark approached the table with trepidation. The body was still, for now, save for its glazed eyes which were rolling in its head. 

“That's... not right.” Clark stated weakly. 

Bruce started the usual battery of tests, connecting up a cardiogram and drawing blood. The machinery was ominously silent and the blood would not flow, except for a dark clot which clung to the end of the needle. 

“Not real, huh?” Dick piped, playing with a stethoscope. Tim had returned to the computer bank, pulling up satellite images of the lab site, and tracing the history of the organisation. Superman just stood and watched the whole affair, arms crossed. 

Bruce was getting more frustrated with every negative test result. There was no heartbeat, pulse, electrical activity in the brain or retinal response. It seemed as if the creature was, well, dead. 

He was just about to run a delta wave scan when he was interrupted from above again. Alfred was walking down the stairs from the manor, calmly balancing a loaded tea tray. Ace, dubbed 'the Batdog' by Dick years earlier, was uncharacteristically bouncing around noisily behind him. 

“I'm afraid something has gotten into the hound, sir. He is uncommonly vocal at present.” Alfred spoke as he reached the bottom of the stairs. As soon as Ace could get past him he bolted over to the medical table and started barking at the restrained form. 

Batman resisted the urge to sigh and rub his eyes. It seem this evening became more frustrating with every second. Clark was trying to quiet the dog, with little effect. 

“Woah, you've got to be kidding.” Dick stated cryptically as he glanced between Ace and the figure on the table. 

Batman's inquiring look was hidden by his mask, but Dick seemed to see it anyway. 

“What, you haven't read The Zombie Survival Guide?” 

“No,” Bruce replied dryly, “I haven't.” 

Dick grinned. “This guy wrote a manual on surviving zombie incursions. There's a whole part on dogs, and how sensitive they are to zombies.” 

“A fictional account of a fictional entity cannot possibly be-” 

“Fine! Evidence right here suggests that our... ambulatory deceased has a strong impact on Ace.” 

“It makes sense.” Clark chimed in, kneeling beside a still vocal Ace. “Canines have senses that humans couldn't imagine.” 

Bruce was silent, considering the facts. “You might have something there.” He glanced at Ace. “Interesting.” 

“Uh...” Tim called out from the bank of monitors, “You might want to see this, B.” Bruce looked over to Tim, the large screen behind showing a real time satellite image of the alleyway. With night vision enabled the dark shadow of the open hatchway was clearly visible. 

“Damn it!” Bruce growled. Everyone turned to look at him. Including Ace. “We need to restrain those others immediately.” He strode out of the medical area, cape swirling. “Alfred, get onto the police scanner and see if there's been any reports. Tim, keep monitoring those satellite feeds. Dick, Clark, with me. And bring the dog.” 

Bruce strode towards his car, confident in his command. Everyone had leapt to their assigned task, except Clark. He seemed to be waiting for something. For the third time that evening Bruce's attention was drawn by a sound above, as a white blaze crashed through the roof of the cave, debris and startled bats filling the air. Krypto landed before Clark gracefully, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail wagging. Clark grinned. “Two heads are better than one right? Same goes for noses. C'mon boy.” Clark walked towards the Batmobile, Krypto happily heeling beside him and Ace following discreetly behind. 

Dick grinned. “How'd he know to come?” 

Clark beamed back at him. “Supersonic whistle.” 

As Clark passed Bruce he patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry about the roof.” 

Bruce did give in to a sigh, and wondered if the world would notice if he just gave up now and went to bed. Probably not. But he'd notice. 

Bruce, Dick and Ace left in the Batmobile, with Clark and Krypto following closely. Tim was already updating them on the latest satellite and police scanner data over their comlinks. Alfred went to get the broom. 

\--- 

It was clear, as soon as they reached the alleyway, that the detained creatures had not escaped without assistance. Drag marks from the skip and tire tracks suggested a vehicle had been used to free them and then had fled the scene. All three men were investigating various aspects of the alley, but with little success. An update from Robin provided little help. The dogs, however, were wheeling in the alleyway excitedly, nose to the ground. Eventually, Krypto let out a high yip and flew off down the street, Ace barrelling along behind him. The men followed. They ran for a few blocks, and finally came to a run down warehouse. There was a large van parked haphazardly outside it, the engine was still ticking quietly as it cooled. Batman felt the slightest surge of pleasure at the find, and he could see Dick grinning in the darkness behind him. With a few deft hand signals Batman arrayed his team around the building, and on another signal they scaled the walls swept into the roof, the dogs entering below them from the ground. 

The smell was the first thing they noticed, sweet and high and choking. Burnt flesh. Two swaying figures were standing within a makeshift barricade. One of them had lost a foot, and appeared to be holding it in his hand. The two dogs immediately ran towards them, barking savagely. Not an ounce of commands or training could contain them. The still figures did not seem to notice, what remained of their faces slack and soulless. 

A door slammed on the far wall, and a man ran towards the dogs, flailing his arms. “Shoo! Shoo!” he snarled. He appeared to search briefly for something to throw at them, and when that failed, he bent and removed his shoes, lobbing them at the barking hounds. 

Batman took the opportunity to slip silently from the rafters, and he felt the slight breeze as Clark and Dick followed behind him. 

“Are you responsible for these creatures?” he snarled. 

The man took a panicked step back, arms flung up. “Who are-” 

“Answer my question!” 

Behind Batman, Superman strode over to the pair of dogs, resting a hand on both their heads. They quietened briefly, but remained vigilant. 

“Well, yes,” the scientist replied shakily, “they're my research. Our future! Life beyond death.” 

Batman threw a look at Dick, who returned it. Not another immortality lunatic. 

“But Jacobs couldn't see it. He wouldn't believe me! He burnt everything. My data, my research papers, all my work. He can't do that!” he scientist yelled. His eyes glittered with something that tasted like madness in the dim light. 

Suddenly, the bone-biting exhaustion of the last few days caught up with Batman. He really wasn't equipped to deal with this right now. Madmen and their schemes and rants and excuses. It was just too much. The threat to the city was contained, which is all he needed tonight. Reaching for the bolas and zip strips in his belt, Batman walked towards the man. He'd bundle them all up and leave them for Gordan to deal with. He had only taken a few steps before a black shape blitzed past him to stand between him and the scientist. Ace barked violently at the man, who recoiled in fear. It was a vicious, insistent bark, the same Ace had been using all night. Krypto was also growling, from his place near the contained creatures. Bruce examined the man with scrutiny. Clark was then standing next to him, consternation also on his face. He glanced at Bruce and confirmed it, something was wrong. 

“How did you detain the creatures?” Batman asked, gesturing towards them. The man didn't remove his eyes from Ace. “Did you have to come in contact with them for long?” 

“Sir,” Superman stepped forward, one hand raised in concern, “did any of them... bite you?” 

“No!” the man replied, “No. No no no.” He turned suddenly to run, but his socked feet slid against the frozen concrete and he fell. Ace was on him within a second, going for the throat. The scientist wailed, scrabbling arms and legs against the dog. 

“No!” Batman yelled, but Ace would not listen. It took Batman, Superman and Nightwing together to drag Ace off the scientist – by the time they did the man had gurgled into stillness, his throat shredded. Batman plucked the body off the ground, the blood drenched shirt hanging in tatters. A hastily bound wound seeped blood on the scientists' upper arm, the surrounding skin tinged green and black. He'd been bitten, the damn fool. Batman begrudgingly admitted that Dick was probably right. Zombies. At Christmas. Right. 

Batman carefully placed the body on the ground. Ace was panting heavily beside him, Dick kneeling down to fuss over him. “Good boy, good boy” he muttered under his breath. Superman was standing quietly, eyes moving from the dead scientist to the more active corpses across the room. 

“How do we fix this, B?” 

Batman considered for a moment, waiting for his tired mind to turn over. “Fire.” 

Dick looked up at him. “You sure? Didn't seem to work too well at the lab.” 

“True, but this Jacobs fellow sounded like he worked with these creatures, and he clearly considered it a solution at the laboratory. Perhaps with the right accelerant...” 

Superman nodded, his eyes taking on a red glow. “And the right temperature.” 

“I'll grab the fuel from the car.” Dick said, standing up. Ace beside him had calmed, trotting quietly out after Dick as he left. 

Batman and Superman moved the body over to the other detained creatures. It was just starting to twitch and moan as they returned the furniture barricade. Together they started breaking down the furniture scattered around the room, piling table legs and chair pieces around the barricade, creating a bonfire. Dick returned just as they added the last of the available wood, and then started dousing the whole pile in petrol. The creatures inside were thankfully silent, but Krypto remained vigilant, looking on. When Nightwing was done Clark ignited the jumble of wood and flesh with his heat vision. The creatures howled and started thrashing against their enclosure. The fuel soaked wood caught easily, and soon the three men had to step back from the flames. The creatures were soon silent and still. Not long after, three forms left the building and stood in the alleyway outside. 

“Let's go home.” Clark suggested. 

Batman glanced at the time keeper in his gauntlet. It was almost 2am. Christmas morning. God, he wanted to sleep. But. “No,” Batman replied tiredly. “I want to make sure.” 

Clark nodded, leaning against alley wall. Dick jumped up to sit on top of a pile of crates, and Bruce sat below him on an empty bin. In silence the three waited, watching the building fall into an inferno. Not long after Tim arrived on his bike, with files on the scientist and his research. And eggnog and snacks from Alfred. Sitting watching a blazing fire, nibbling on mince pies and surrounded by his family, Bruce noted with some absurdity that this was the third most normal Christmas he'd had since taking up the cowl. As the warmth from the fire seeped through his armour, and the wall cradled his head, it was his last thought for some time. 

\--- 

Bruce woke late that afternoon to warmth and light. The ticking of the great clock in the hallway outside his bedroom marked the beat of his own heart. He sighed contentedly, and curled closer into the broad expanse of warmth beneath him, which held him tighter in return. A kiss was placed on top of his head. He smiled and, almost against his will, opened his eyes and looked up. Clark smiled back at him, eyes brilliant in the afternoon sun. “Merry Christmas.” 

Bruce closed his eyes, revelling in the luxury of being sprawled across Clark's chest. “M'ristmas.” he mumbled in return. Clark ran a hand slowly down Bruce's back, stopping to rest at his hips. 

Suddenly, memories of last night rushed back, causing Bruce to sit up sharply. “The other one-” 

“Shh,” Clark answered, running fingers down the side of Bruce's face. “It's all taken care of.”   
Bruce blinked tiredly. “But the one down in the cave...” 

Clark grinned fondly at him. “It's all done, B. You don't have to worry.” 

Bruce watched Clark's eyes for a moment, then lay back down against his chest, fingers running along the line of Clark's collarbone. “If you say.” 

Clark chuckled, the rumble running through his chest pleasantly. “I do. You've trained your boys well, Bruce.” 

Bruce agreed with a sigh, letting his eyes close again. He lay and thought happily of the ample amounts of nothing he had to do in the next week. But after a while that felt like too much work, and he slipped back into sleep.


End file.
